


Little things of ruin

by Charlicks



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 09:21:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18385565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charlicks/pseuds/Charlicks
Summary: I'm lying facing him in this darkened room; two frightened, exhausted bodies sharing a single bed because they can't bear to be apart.We are as close as can be without touching. Every hair on my body stands to attention, my skin tingles electric.Light pours in from the curtainless window; insipid yellow, electric light, which sucks the colour from the room, and bathes us in a sickly, sour glow





	Little things of ruin

**Author's Note:**

> I'm aware that in the later part of the story there is a dialogue exchange between Trixie and Katya that appears in almost exactly the same way as another person's work within the fandom (sorry, can't remember the author or the title). I had written this before I read the other work and am loathed to change it.  
> Hope you all enjoy!

Katya

In my experience, the saddest, most soul-crushing truth to accept, is that sometimes love is not enough. 

When a romance begins, the love that blossoms seems to be the only thing in the world that matters. You feel like anything is possible, as long as that love is in your life. Love will fill your belly, love will pay your bills, and love will be your blanket at night.

“All you need is love”, The Beatles sang, didn't they? But I'm pretty sure those guys had taken a lot of acid at the time.

I wonder, if things had soured between Trixie and I, if they had begun to rot like bruised, forgotten fruit, would it have been easier in the end?

If I hadn't have been so desperately, heart-breakingly in love, would my world have crumbled a little less?

He was my home. His heartbeat was my lullaby, his kisses fuelled me like the air that I breathed. Saying goodbye to him was the hardest thing I've ever had to do; saying goodbye to him for the most banal and ungraceful of reasons.... it's enough to make a girl flip life the finger and exist stage left without leaving a tip.

It's enough to make a girl question everything.

I wish it had have been simple. Who knew the mundane and unimaginative could be so goddamn complex? Don't answer that, it's a rhetorical question. It's a stupid question, because of course I know how difficult the petty, boring little things can be. That's why rich people get assistants; pay a lackey to spin the plates so you can focus on the lion taming. I should have known to mind the little things, but I believed it would be different with Trixie. I believed we were untouchable, above it all; I believed what we had would transcend everything.

I was a fool in love for the very first time, I was invincible, and we were going to rule the motherfucking world.

I guess the universe felt my ego needed shaving down some.

The universe may have been right

 

Those early days were exhilarating; like driving down the freeway at 100mph with the top down, the wind hitting you full in the face, roaring in your ears, making you feel more alive than you ever felt before.  
Those days were electric. The space between us, so highly charged, seemed to fizz and pop with static; while white-lighting cracked in the moments we accidentally touched.

I'd wake up everyday knowing that something wonderful had happened before remembering what it was. Then it would all rush back: Drag race, Trixie, Me & Trixie, Trixie, Trixie, Trixie......  
I'd jump out of bed, buzzing, thrilled, because I didn't want to miss a moment. Not one goddamn moment. 

I was happy. For the first time in my life I was truly happy. With that came a huge release from the constant nagging of my conjoined twin, Addiction.  
His voice had always been there in the background, a dry, papery whispering that never ceased. He'd scratch at the back of my brain with his one ragged, yellowed nail, making me squirm, making me twitch.  
But my new-found happiness had silenced him almost entirely. I felt brand-new. I felt free and alive and beautiful and like the luckiest, witchest woman in the world.

 

 

It started on the show, in the Werk Room.  
He was out of reach at first, kinda untouchable, surrounded by all the beautiful girls, the girls with the 'straight up and down poll bodies' (thanks for that gem, Jasmine). Pearl, Violet, Fame, Max.... the whole lot of them completely intimidated me; all so beautiful, so young and formed into a fiercely-fishy pack of beautiful beasts.

I had come into that terrifying, camera-laden, goldfish-bowl completely on my own. I naturally gravitated towards the older, cynical, rotted girls like Ginger, Tempest and Kennedy; so in the beginning we seemed to be on different sides. 

When I found that group of pristine white-privileged pussy-holes wanted me in the mix, it felt like being accepted by the popular girls at school. And not only did they tolerate me, they actively appreciated me. For all of Violet's cold-hearted-bitch posturing, she was utterly unconscious of how visibly she wore her heart on her sleeve. The crush she developed on me rendered her a giddy school girl, it was utterly endearing. Throwing her head back and roaring at the least funny of my jokes. But the part about Violet is for later in the story, the part about Violet is the badly judged brick that sent my Jenga tower toppling.

But inevitably, like two kindred spirits do, Trixie and I found each other. We gravitated towards each other like a pair of slow-moving magnets. But once that connection was made, there was no prying us apart. We clicked, like two puzzle pieces.

That's where it started, and it started slowly, naturally

It was only after our eliminations that we grew closer. We called each other almost everyday bonding over our mutual, global-scale failure.

The months before the show aired were tortuously exciting. We danced around the friendship line, dropping hints, making jokes, and casually touching every chance we got.  
I felt exquisitely frustrated, knowing I wanted Trixie, but feeling too anxious to make a move. I didn't want to fuck our friendship up and make things weird if he wasn't on the same page. I almost enjoyed the turmoil in a masochistic way.

At that stage, I just wanted to fuck him, over and over again. I wasn't thinking about labels or promises, I wasn't thinking about the future or commitment, but I couldn't deny the chemistry and the feeling that a no-strings fuck wasn't going to cut the mustard. 

I didn't believe in love at the time. I had contempt for the concept of traditional relationships. I found them to be restrictive, stifling, panic-inducing. In my experience, relationships had always seemed to be about control, demands and expectations. They never seemed to be about lifting each other up, supporting the other to have the best experience in life they possibly could, or truly caring about the other's deep happiness. They seemed to be about making empty gestures to prove your love, gestures that society deemed appropriate; like dinner, flowers, gifts..... monogamy. 

Until Trixie, I didn't realise that being with one person was the easiest thing in the world. Until Trixie I didn't believe I'd ever be in love.

 

So.  
Australia.  
We both knew what that was meant to be. It was meant to be the beginning. Neither of us said it, it was like a game; let's play 'pretend we're just friends, oblivious to the sexual tension, then fuck each other's brains out while we tour a foreign country'. You know, that old classic? Didn't everyone play that in college?

It was an unspoken agreement. In a distant land we could be different people. We could make ourselves a'new, figure out who we were post Drag Race; figure out who we were now that we had each other. It was also the first chance we really had to be alone and together for more than a few hours.

So nothing happened before. We flew across the world, the weight of our unspoken expectations fluttering in our chests. But instead of Egyptian cotton sheets and room service, we got interrogated and detained. It was horrendous, truly horrendous.

Welcome to Australia, Bitches.

Fuck those faulty visas and the people who packed us off with them.

 

So there we were, carted off to a sketchy motel as the detention centre was at capacity, being accompanied by five big, burly guards to keep watch on us all night long.

I had plans, Bitch.

I was going to romance the shit out of Trixie; just like he always dreamed of as a little girl watching those appalling Disney movies.

I was going to wine and dine that beautiful Barbie, then fuck him like a filthy slut all night, all day, all week, all forever......

I had plans and they done got fucked up. Still, that night is burned into my memory forever. That night will always make me smile.  
When I close my eyes I can remember it, those moments when everything changed, when we crossed the line from flirtatious friends to lovers. I can feel it, taste it, hear it just like it's happening all over again. Just like it's happening now...

 

 

I'm lying facing him in this darkened room; two frightened, exhausted bodies sharing a single bed because they can't bear to be apart.  
We are as close as can be without touching. Every hair on my body stands to attention, my skin tingles electric.  
Light pours in from the curtainless window; insipid yellow, electric light, which sucks the colour from the room, and bathes us in a sickly, sour glow. 

The light outlines Trixie's face, the curve of his cheek, the swell of his lips.  
His open eyes shine as they stare back in silence.

All I hear is the thumping of my heart and the rhythm of our breaths as we regard each other.  
The last lingering ghost of Trixie's cologne blends into the rich, earthy scent of our marinating bodies. My mouth begins to water as a deep carnal desire uncoils within my belly.

I ponder the curve of Trixie's cheek. That face, always so animated, lying still before me.  
I raise my hand, of course I do, I'm the instigator, always the instigator... I raise my hand and trace the outline of that cheek with the tip of my finger.  
His eyes close and he tilts his head a fraction towards my touch. He's so goddamn beautiful I can't stand it.

"You're so goddamn beautiful, I can't stand it", I say out loud, because I just can't hold it in anymore after all these months.

He opens his eyes again, those warm, wet eyes reflecting two dancing dots of electric light,

"This isn't how I expected our first night in Aus to be", he whispers. 

Something about the look on his face suddenly makes me wonder if the spell has been broken, if the terrible day we've spent in airport security has rendered us over before we began.

"No shit, Charmane", I reply. "I had a whole evening of romance and passion planned for us, Mama. You were going to be bewitched and ravished within an inch. of. your. life".

Trixie laughs and rolls his eyes, which is good, which is everything, because it means he's still playing the game, pretending neither of us wanted or expected this trip to change things between us. It means we're both still on-board.

"Oh please, your idea of romance is asking a guy if you can shave his asshole" he says with a smirk.

I raise an eyebrow at him, "Bitch, I was going to woo you so hard you weren't gonna know what hit you. Then I was going to devour you, eat you up and suck your bones dry".

Trixie throws his head back, delighted, and laughs while he says, "Honey, oh honey, I can tell you a few things about sucking a bone dry, oh honnneeey".

I can't help but snort in response and almost make a flippant comeback, but I swallow it down. I won't be distracted by jokes. This moment is fragile... Trixie is like a slippery fish who must be reeled in gently, he could all too easily retreat into humour and our window for stepping out of the friendship zone could close.

"I just want to touch you, Trixie", I say instead, I say in all seriousness, right into his beautiful face.

He looks right back, all trace of joking vanished, his gaze flickering from my eyes to my lips and back again, and in a small voice he says,

"Well I'm right here, you idiot". 

He's suddenly all eyes, all big, brown, Bambi-eyes, and I realise how pivotal this moment is. After months of careful flirting and innuendo perfectly-pitched to be played off as humour, after months of dipping a toe into the shallow lapping waves of 'more than just friends' and testing the water, we are finally here; we are finally admitting to each other that we want more.

I feel like we are the only two people in the world, I feel like time is standing still as I reach out to him and pull him close, crossing the millimetres between us, aligning our bodies.  
Our mouths are hungry, starved, breathing the same air, breathing each other's breaths. Somehow in this silence and stillness we are frantic, desperate.

I stare into that familiar face so close to mine, beholding every perfect imperfection. The crease in his brow, the bump on his nose, those jagged incisors that make me melt... the bead of sweat forming at his temple that I want to slide my tongue over and taste.

Then it's Trixie this time, for the first time it's Trixie who closes the last gap between us. It's Trixie who makes the final, irreversible leap into the unknown, and kisses me. Those perfect, petal-pink lips graze over my own so softly and I feel a million stars explode in my head.

It's the first kiss we've shared, the first act we can't take back or deny, and I'm certain beyond doubt that Trixie is as present and awake as I am, relishing this moment that can only happen once. There can only be one first time.

There is nothing hurried, we are gentle, we are slow. I just enjoy the sensation of lips upon lips, the brushing of our nose tips, the light tracing of our fingers. 

I nudge his mouth open and tentatively taste the wetness inside. Trixie's spit is nectar. Our tongues tangle, twining together; dancing, in a languid, saltry rytham. 

Being in this moment finally is overwhelming, Trixie is intoxicating. I feel set adrift on a sea of sensation, I'm nothing but this moment, this feeling. Instinctively we wrap our limbs around each other, holding on as tight as we can. The heat rises in both of us and our kisses become deeper, harder, almost desperate.  
A sound escapes me, a moan of arousal, and Trixie bites my bottom lip in response.

"I want you so bad" he whispers.

Those words light me up, I feel electricity thruming through my veins, endorphins flooding my brain, blood rushing to my dick.

"I've wanted you since the moment I met you" I tell him into his mouth, in between kisses, "I'm so hungry for you Trixie, I'm famished. I want to taste every part of you. I want to eat you up. "

Then, supprising me, Trixie rolls up on top of me, pining my hands above my head, his knees in between my thighs, and presses his hard dick onto mine. I'm delighted, I'm stunned...

"You filthy minx", I gasp, "you're such a Dom! And here I was thinking I was going to have the upper hand..."

Trixie looks straight down at me says, "Damn Katya, do you ever shut up?"

I give him my best, toothy, wolfish smile and say,

"Only if you make me, Daddy"

His eyes narrow and one corner of his mouth slides up into a filthy smile.  
He grinds his pelvis into mine and says,

"Oh bitch, game on".

 

 

Who knows how that night would have ended if at that exact moment a guard hadn't knocked on the door to check on us. Honestly, we were lucky he even knocked, most of them didn't.

The adrenaline of nearly being caught in the carnal act by a big ol' heterosexual, Australian immigration-guard was enough to render me twitchy and wakeful for the rest of the night. Despite our new-found fame, despite our brazen and extrovert alter-egos, Trixie and I disolved into the two little sissies we'd been back in 7th grade. Talk about a proverbial cold shower. What a mood killer. 

The next day we were back on a plane to LA, our heads spinning with all that had happened. We didn't talk about it, the kissing, the touching, but as we sat on the plane, our fingers sometimes found each other, our eyes sometimes locked a beat too long, sharing a look laden with words we couldn't say.  
As the hours wore on, Trixie's proximity to me became unbearable. Something had been unleashed, and I couldn't put it back. When our journey neared it's end I purposefully reached out and grabbed his hand, making him look up at me with big, wide eyes.

"I can't stand it if we pretend like nothing happened Trixie. I can't stand it if we've blown our only chance. We have to talk when we get home." I searched his eyes for a sign that he felt as desperate as I did. His momentary surprise turned into a restrained, yet warm smile and he lifted the hand I wasn't clutching and cupped my cheek. 

"Talking? I was hoping for fucking, but if talking is what you're in to...."

We both dissolved into giggles and I clutched at his hands,

"No, you rotted whore, you goddamn rotted gila monster, fucking! I choose fucking… and talking, fucking and talking and talking about fucking..."

"Katya, shut the fuck up and kiss me"

So I did.


End file.
